


A walk in the woods

by MToddWebster (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician)
Genre: (maybe), Autumn, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Musicians, People Talking in Kitchens, RPF, RPS - Freeform, Tea, Walks In The Woods, sweater paws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 07:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/MToddWebster
Summary: Alex returns from touring with his brother. Andrew offers his best friend tea, biscuits, and a walk in the woods.





	A walk in the woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roosebolton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roosebolton/gifts).

> You know, I kind of hate writing summaries and notes. *g* But I'd be remiss if I didn't once again thank gloriousthorn for beta. 
> 
> Ye olde RPF disclaimer: Because I am a fandom old, I would just like to state for the record that I made all of this up and do not think this is real and am not astrally spying on Hozier's or Alex Ryan's private life, at all.
> 
> roosebolton, this is for you. Happy fall equinox.
> 
> Happy equinox, everybody, whichever one you're celebrating.

The chime of the doorbell made Andrew grin like an idiot. (He tended to think he looked like an idiot whenever he grinned.) He darted out of the kitchen and nearly tripped over his boots on the way to the front door. "What's with this ringing the doorbell shite? You too good now to come in by the back way?"

"Ah, fuck off," said Alex, and stepped into a hug. Andrew pounded him on the back a few times and took the guitar case out of his hand. 

"Music later. Tea and biscuits first. I’ve been cold all day."

"All right then." Alex followed Andrew through the dim living room without tripping over anything and took a seat at the kitchen table. Andrew restarted the kettle, drumming his fingers on the counter till it boiled again, then filled the teapot and carried it to the table.

Alex already had a mouthful of biscuit. "Did your mother make these? They're scrumptious."

"Oh, yeah, you know it wasn't me." Andrew shoved his glasses up his nose and grabbed a biscuit of his own. Nothing like mum's homemade shortbread. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of happy grateful chewing. 

"Look at you then," Andrew said, reaching for the teapot. "The big man back from his big tour!"

"Ah, shove it, Andy." Alex grabbed another biscuit and the creamer. "Says the world-touring musical phenomenon who kept adding dates to his last tour till we were all gonna drop."

Andrew kicked out, aiming for Alex's ankle. "I'm just having you on. Missed you. Been working on some songs and having you around always helps."

"I'm just a sounding board, then?"

Alex gulped half his tea. Andrew slouched back in his chair, pulling the sleeves of his jumper down till they covered his chilly fingers. "What's got up your arse, then? You don't sound like a man who just came back from his first American tour as the headliner."

Alex sighed and poured himself a refill. "Ah, don't mind me. I'm just tired, is all. Maybe three months wasn't enough time for a break between your tour and mine." He crunched up another biscuit. "Glad to be home."

Outside, it began to rain; a tentative tap-tap-tap like the first notes of a new tune, slowly gathering momentum like the uncertain chords that come in under the melody. 

"Well, you've brought the rain back with you." Andrew glanced out the kitchen window. "And I was gonna suggest a walk in the woods."

"I might still wanna do that. I've missed these woods." He glanced down, drumming his fingers now on the wooden table. "I've missed you, too."

Andrew wasn’t sure what to say to that. There was an undertone to the words, and to his own feelings, too, that he wasn’t quite ready to examine. He’d missed Alex more than he expected while his best friend was touring with his brother as Black Fox Leash. More than he’d figured on missing even his best friend. And not just while he was working on new music, when he’d got accustomed to having Alex’s bass, Alex’s harmonies, Alex’s arranging skills at his disposal. He’d missed the man when he was drinking in the corners of shitty pubs, listening to new musicians just starting out. He’d missed him while scuffling through the woods or reading by the fireplace before bed.

He shifted in his chair and changed the subject, sort of.

“Was the tour not what you had hoped? Everything I heard about it was good, I swear.”

Alex leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. Andrew could feel the jiggling of his foot through the vibration of the table. “It was and it wasn’t? It was a success. Tonnes of good reviews, sure.” He leaned forward and pointed at Andrew with a finger that jabbed the air like a spear. “And every single one of them mentioned you.”

For a moment Andrew was heartsick. This was his bloody worst nightmare come true, for sure. He was going to lose Alex, same way he’d lost-- He groped for his cup and found barely a mouthful left in it, just enough to clear the way for his words. “Oh, Alex, lad, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Alex shot to his feet and went to the back door. He opened it, and a cool damp breeze swirled through, bringing the scent of autumn: rain and decaying leaves. The rain shifted to a proper downpour, a whole choir of voices singing. Andrew cracked his knuckles before pouring himself another cuppa.

“The funny thing is,” Alex said, over the thrum of the rain, “I’m not.” He closed the door and came back to the table, rubbing his arms as though he were cold. He sat down and took the last biscuit off the plate. 

“The funny thing is,” he said again after demolishing the biscuit, and Andrew had clutched his mug in both hands and tried to concentrate on its warmth, “that I think I did better work as your bassist than I did as a headliner.”

That was not what Andrew had been expecting to hear. “Ah, come off it. You’re brilliant. You’re a better fucking guitarist than I am.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” Alex flashed a grin, “be that as it may, I think something happens when we’re playing together that doesn’t happen when it’s me and Paddy. He and I are too much alike? We argue and bounce off each other, but still, we’re brothers. There’s a limit to what we can do together.”

Alex crossed his legs and jiggled his foot again. Andrew sipped his tea, slowly, watching Alex over the rim of the mug. He was just about to burst when Alex finally went on, “I feel like there aren’t any limits to what you and me can do.”

Something unwound in Andrew, like a serpent coiled around his spine that stopped tightening its grip and began to let go. He had his feet under him now. “Well then,” he said, putting down his empty mug and standing up, “why don’t you come give a listen to what I’ve been working on?”

A couple of hours up in the music room went by like a couple of minutes. Andrew *had* missed this, more than he’d let himself feel--sitting shoulder to shoulder with his best friend at the piano, their hands overlapping on the keys. Getting out guitars and bass and trading licks on melodies and scraps of melody. Hearing Alex’s familiar voice sing a half-finished song and having it come across as something totally fresh, not something he’d been beating his head against for weeks.

When they wound down, finally, Andrew cocked his head and listened. “I think it’s stopped raining. You wanna go for a walk, a bit, before it gets dark?”

“Yeah.” Alex laid his bass back in its case, closed it up. “Maybe go into town for some dinner.”

“That sounds good.”

It was even cooler now than when Alex had opened the kitchen door and let the wind and rain in, cool enough that Andrew grabbed a spare hoodie from behind the kitchen door and pulled it on as they walked. There was a path through the trees that basically circled the cottage, made more or less by Andrew himself; he headed that way and Alex went with him, not questioning. That happened a lot, he thought: Alex following him without questioning. His early demos; those first videos of his songs, made in his parents’ attic; touring his first album for nearly two years. Alex right beside him, sometimes disagreeing, even arguing, but never doubting him, never trying to tear him down or hold him back.

They walked silently over slick wet leaves, red, yellow, brown, shoulder to shoulder as at the piano. Not quite touching. Andrew had a sudden impulse--an actual movement of his hand, which he stilled--to take Alex’s hand. To weave their fingers together and hold on, palm to palm. 

Stupid me, he thought. Stupid boy--

Alex had stopped. Andrew turned back, looked at him with something like terror. His heart was racing as if it were trying to run away. In the woods somewhere he thought, stupidly, stupefied.

Alex was looking at him, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. Water dripped off the leaves overhead; a drop fell just on his hairline and ran down his forehead to his eyebrow. He dashed it away on his sleeve, and then he moved, Andrew moved, their mouths met.

The roughness of it… his scruff and Alex’s, Alex grabbing the collar of his jacket to hold him in place. Then Alex’s hand sliding upward, slow and gentle, to push his hair back from his face.

“Been wanting to do this a long time,” Alex murmured.

Andrew opened and closed his mouth. Licked his lips. Swallowed. “Yeah.”

Alex’s fingers slid into Andrew’s hair. “Let’s do it again.”

This time Andrew opened his mouth and licked at Alex’s lower lip, and Alex licked at Andrew’s upper lip, and Alex’s tongue was in Andrew’s mouth and Andrew’s tongue in Alex’s and Christ! he was hard, he hadn’t felt like this in ages--

He broke off the kiss and noticed his hands were planted on Alex’s chest. Alex slowly untwined his fingers from Andrew’s hair. From the look on his face, he’d had the same unexpected reaction to the kiss. Andrew dared not look down for confirmation.

“I think it’s starting to rain again,” Alex said. “We’d better get back.”

“Yeah.” Andrew took a step back. “You still want to go into town, grab a bite?”

“Oh yeah. You know what I want?” Alex shuffled his feet, and Andrew started walking back toward the cottage, not needing to think about where he was going. “Proper pub food. Shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, the real thing, mate.”

“I could murder that, come to think.” His hand moved and this time he didn’t stop it. His fingers twined with Alex’s; Alex squeezed back. “Yeah, that’ll do.”


End file.
